


Ready To Fall

by A_Ghost_Called_Boo



Series: Fic Requests [1]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: California (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Nonbinary Dr. Benzedrine, Nonbinary Fun Ghoul (Danger Days), Nonbinary Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), Not RPF, Other, Smoking, The Characters Are Not The Band Members, Trans Mr. Sandman, because I said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28528539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Ghost_Called_Boo/pseuds/A_Ghost_Called_Boo
Summary: In fair Battery City where we lay our scene, from two grudging rebel factions to allies fighting side by side, and young love ending in hot white lights and blood, the stainless walls watch tonight as heart shatter like they’re made of glass.
Relationships: Dr. Benzedrine & Donnie The Catcher & Horseshoe Crab & Mr. Sandman (Fall Out Boy), Fun Ghoul & Jet Star & Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days), Fun Ghoul & Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Kobra Kid/Mr. Sandman (Fall Out Boy), Mr. Sandman & Dr. Benzedrine (Fall Out Boy)
Series: Fic Requests [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089827
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Ready To Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise if the writing gets funky at any point, this was an anonymous request for "sandkid + angst" i got on tumblr ([@dead-silxnce](https://dead-silxnce.tumblr.com/)) and wrote in a 3-8am haze

Kobra never really understood the appeal of the Lobby. Even when he lived within the concrete City walls, everything about the place seemed too crammed and chaotic for it to be somewhere enjoyable- it’s like a dozen little plants growing in the cracks of a concrete sidewalk where a tree’s roots had dug underneath and worn it out in time. Still, the green is always pretty against the dull shades of white and gray, and that’s what Kobra’s looking at as he sits on that rickety old fire escape with a cigarette dangling from his lips while he rummages in his pockets for a lighter.

“Need stardust?“ a voice asks from nowhere, and Kobra’s hand instinctively finds his switchblade as he looks up at the stranger. 

He’s maybe a few inches shorter than Kobra- clearly a juvie hall, judging by the way his dark coat still has an intact bottom hem despite its length- and looks like a cross between a skeleton and the crash queens in NewsAGoGo’s magazines. His hair is long and stringy, sticking out at odd sharp angles from a mix of hair products and damage from dying it over and over again, but what really ties the whole look together is the large skeletal grin painted on his face in black and white, matching the dark smudged make-up around his eyes.

“Use you big boy words, juvie. I can’t understand shit you’re saying.“ the blonde killjoy huffs, tentatively letting go of his knife as he resumes his search for the small red contraption he’s claimed as his own. If any of the others stole it again-

“Well, what’s the fun in that? There is no drama!“ Sandman complains, jumping down to join the other on the platform below and startling him out of his thoughts as he instinctively clutches onto the railing for dear life, “There was a great pre-war writer who once said the whole world is a stage, y’know.“

“Shakespear.“ Kobra supplies, as he gives his pockets a last once-over, “He wrote like...dozens of throwaway works and he’s only known for a couple. Not that impressive if you ask me.“

“Still impressive enough they’d burn him.“ Sandman shrugs, leaning over the railing and into the night, and the former finds himself staring at the way the streetlights below hit the juvie’s jawline for longer than he’d like to admit to himself.

“Sure.“ he admits dismissively, coughing to shake the confusing haze he’s created in his own mind, “Do you have a light or something?“

The question makes the other grin widely, what feels almost as wide as the fake smile plastered over it, and for a painfully long moment Kobra knows exactly how a coyote caught in the headlights feels like- frozen in place, yet unable to look away or run from its impending doom.

“That’s what i asked you when you told me to use me ‘big boy words’. I asked if you wanted stardust- ‘sparks’, if you will.” he explains, sitting down and threading his legs through the bars in the guardrail, swinging them over the street like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Yeah, well i don’t speak your- your, uhh...“ Kobra snaps his fingers as he wracks his brains for what Ghoul had called the juvie slang all those years ago.

“Fiction diction?“ Sandman fills in amused, leaving the other no choice but to nod bashfully as a blush slowly its way creeps onto his face.

“Yeah. _That_. My friend- Fun Ghoul- they tried to teach me it, but nothing really stuck. It’s like i’m cursed or some shit- i can’t use slang to save my life.“

“Huh, so your little black-haired friend _is_ an alleycat.“ the juvie muses and the blonde turns with the intention to ask him what the term means, but the words get stuck in the back of his throat as he catches the former looking at him already with a lazy smile on his face, “What else should i know about you, darling?“

“Depends on what you want.“ he answers distractedly, as every cell of his body screams in protest of the decision he feels himself edge ever so closer to, every word that they exchange. The cigar had fallen away from his lips at some point, but in the moment it felt like the most insignificant thing in the universe.

“What i want?“ Sandman’s eyes flicker down for a moment, so fast that Kobra almost convinces himself he’s imagined it in, caught up in his own stupor of being so close to someone he thought was attractive whether or not his pride let him admit it, but then the juvie hall is kissing him.

It’s just a small peck, near the corner of his mouth- an invitation of sorts or perhaps a love letter in its own right- but it’s enough to short-circuit the blonde killjoy’s entire nervous system. He pulls the other back by the collar, bringing him down in an insistent kiss, as his hands find their way up the detail of Sandman’s lapel and to the back of his neck as the latter’s get tangled up in his hair. There is a hunger in the way their mouths move together, but it’s underlined with the desperation of knowing that whatever _this_ is it could never last, that something is bound to come along and break them apart once and for all.

That something turns out to be the hissing of a blaster, as it shoots out bolts of white lightning into the starless night sky and startles the two young adults out of their impromptu make-out session, sending them both back up to the apartment window they’d come out of. If the circumstances were different, the two would’ve been no doubt mercilessly teased for their tousled hair and red faces and how Sandman’s make-up had mysteriously made its way over to Kobra’s face, but as the two doubled over trying to catch their breaths and barely clinging onto each other for support there is only confusion and concern written on their faces.

“Vamps- Dracs.“ they tell their respective crews, when their lungs finally allow them, despite aching like they were drowning on shore, and the room shares a terrifying feeling of understanding before each scramble for their respective weapons.

By the time the masks make their way to the apartment the rebels made into their base, they’d all already made it out onto the fire escape, Benzendrine closing the window shut with a yelp as glass shatters under the attack of a dozen violent rays of light. The stairs shake like an earthquake to end all things as the eight of them clamber down the sheet metal steps, Kobra momentarily loosing his footing and falling down halfway onto the platform below before Sandman pulls him back up and holds him close, softly kissing the back of his hand, as they make their way further down. 

It’s the fifth floor that Jet, Ghoul and Poison are forced to open fire against the enemies below returning it tenfold, and the third that Dr. Benzendrine, Donnie and Horseshoe are forced to do the same with the dracs following them down the fire escape, leaving the two young lovers helpless between them as they all slowly dropped into the middle of the madness. Dracs circled around the bottom of the steps like rabid dogs and no matter how hard Kobra and Sandman tried to stay by each other’s side, they got separated in the chaos of dodging lights and swinging wildly at anything dressed in spotless white.

Kobra finds the other again after getting rid of a particularly annoying group of draculoids who’d decided to be smartasses about it and swarm the killjoy in an attempt to overwhelm him, which while it had temporarily worked, it only pissed him off more than anything. Sandman has his back turned to the blonde, seemingly producing knives from his coat and using them to stab or throw at anything that comes too close, but soon into view comes a drac like a cloud passing in front of the sun, if clouds had blasters and were trying to kill the sun.

The young ‘joy tries to warn him, but a gloved hand covers his mouth and an arm firmly snakes around him, trying to constrict his movements before he even gets the chance to make a sound. Instinctively, Kobra stomps on the mask’s foot and headbutts it hard until it lets go when he stabs it wherever his switchblade lands before he charges at the one aiming at Sandman, taking it down with a yell as he drives his blade through its spine, “Fuck off, stupid motherfucker!”

As it falls, the draculoid fires and misses its target making Sandman turn around just in time to see another one of the brainless soldiers walk up to the rebel on still the ground and take its aim. Time seems to move in slow motion from that point onwards. Sandman tried to warn Kobra about what’s behind him, but he’s too late because as the killjoy turns around the damned thing fires, hitting him in the throat. The juvie lounges at it, knocking it off its feet and stabbing at it repeatedly to make sure it would never be able to get back up from where it laid dead like a horrendous roadkill in the middle of the alleyway, before he cast the knife aside and crawls over to Kobra’s side, who has a hand wrapped around his throat and is sputtering blood.

Sandman frantically tries to reassure him everything will be fine, that he’ll be okay, though the more he says it the less he knows which one of them his words are meant for. Benzendrine passes by at one point and Sandman yells at them to go grab Horseshoe and tell her to get the med kit because they have an emergency, but the next familiar face that surfaces from the chaos is Party Poison who drops their blaster to the ground which seems to clatter louder than any of the noises from the fight as they crumble next to their brother shouting and crying and desperately shaking his shoulders as they plead for him not to die- not to leave them again.

This time the juvie manages to warn Poison about the enemy creeping up behind them, which they charge at with an angry cry as they disappear back into the chaos. By the time the sun begins to rise, everything is quiet, two killjoys laying dead amongst more draculoids than one could or would reasonably want to be able to count on even two or three or four hands and a pretend-medic unconscious in the arms of another. The first killjoy, a lanky thing with old scars littering the backs of his arms and a nasty gash in the side of his neck lays with his head cradled in the lap of someone who would’ve liked to one day even be considered his lover. The other, is at the top of a pile of dracs, a knife- Sandman’s knife- sticking out of their chest like a cruel mockery of a gravestone.

As Sandman sits there, soaked in blood and sweat and sunlight and Destroya knows what else, he can’t help but laugh. Laugh at the irony of how death and sleep look so much alike

**Author's Note:**

> U have permission to absolutely yell at me in the comments if u want to :pensive: /lh


End file.
